To say that the princess elect was dispirited was a vast understatement. After Luke exited the vehicle she did not follow, which he either anticipated by failing to take her hand, or wished to happen by refusing to look at her while he spoke with such palpable disappointment. One of the bodyguards closed the door once it was apparent she was not yet ready to make her grand entrance. In the pervasive quiet, with the protection of tinted reflective windows, she leaned forward and buried her face in the upholstery to fight back the tears. She had sincerely believed that she could live without the support and encouragement of anyone within the castle walls. Rhiane was so determined to fight for the common people and to secure a future for her family that she was filled with determination to endure the worst that a life as a peasant-turned-royal had to offer. In practice she felt more broken than the limb that rested in lap secured in a brace. Everyone disapproved of her, from the rebellion to the crown, from Luke to her father, from the aristocracy to the CEOs of major corporations. Nothing she could do was correct. No one would be proud of her and each step she took in any direction damned her further. For a fleeting moment she wished that the bullet intended to fell her had met its mark.

"I'll check," Tobias discreetly told Nolan after he pulled out his earpiece. Given the argument he just witnessed minuted ago, he was certain that whatever was keeping the other half of the 'happy couple' in the SUV would need a delicate approach. At a minimum he would not allow a private discussion to be broadcast over the encrypted channel employed by their security detail. The bodyguard gave Luke a pointed look that edged on silent gloating before he opened the door only as wide was physically necessary, slid into the backseat, and closed the door behind him. Perhaps the symbolism was not lost on his cousin- Tobias was taking the place that Luke had so willingly vacated.

"Can I be of assistance?" he asked more gently once he took in the scene. Rhiane had been startled by his entry but had not been quite quick enough to hide the position she had been in seconds before wherein her body language reflected despondence. She leaned back into her seat and hurriedly tried to finish buttoning her shirt. Unfortunately, although she had managed the top half she was fumbling over the bottom half. The former farmer was trying to hide it, or at least pretend it did not exist, there was a slight tremble in her fingers that was stymieing her progress.

"I just need to get my boots on," Rhiane explained as she forced a smile. She supposed that she did have a friend in the capital, even if Luke was convinced he had ulterior motives, and for this she was glad. Somehow she doubted the queen took into account the disposition of her nephew when appointing him to this detail, nor did she anticipate he would treat the princess elect so warmly, but it was an anchor that kept her from feeling adrift in a turbulent sea.

"Allow me," Tobias insisted as he carefully guided her feet into the footwear and laced them up tightly. "If you become overwhelmed or need to stop for any reason, just ask me for the time and I will know you are ready to leave."

"Thank you," she said, but then after a pause inquired, "but what if the tour has not officially concluded or Luke is not yet ready to go?"

"I will handle it," was all he replied before he put his hand on the door. "Are you ready? They are quite excited to meet you," he added in hopes it might lift her mood. She nodded with a more pensively genuine smile and he pushed open the door, taking her hand to help her out of the tall car and onto the ground safely. Cameras turned as well as the attention of the gathered crowd. It was impossible to discern what drew the greatest reaction: the elegant manner in which she was escorted by her handsome bodyguard, the way even old work clothes hugged her curves, that she had replaced her alluring dress, or the jubilantly warm expression that charmed press and public alike so effortlessly.

Lord and Lady Furello were predictably scandalized but they did not have an opportunity to make snide comment before Rhiane had approached and spoken herself. "I must confess I've been looking forward to this tour. Pomegranates are just coming into season I believe; would it be possible to begin in one of the fields dedicated to them? Perhaps we could take a few with us if any are ripe yet?" she added with a charismatic smile that set off wild clicking from the media presence. "Please, lead the way baron, if you would be so kind."

During lunch the nobility had underestimated the shrewd wit and tactics of their princess elect. They had looked down upon her because of her birth, her profession, and the company she kept before the contest landed her at the capital. She would not pretend she was not almost spitefully manipulating this social encounter for her benefit. The garment change earned her the instant respect and admiration from the gathered peasants, the reporters loved how engaging and unpredictable she was because it made for an exciting story (not to mention that she treated them well rather than with hostility), and thus neither would leap to suspecting her of being passive aggressive with the upperclass. Rhiane was nothing if not an excellent spokeswoman. Had Luke not seen her temper in person he might not believed she was capable of such profound anger.

"Oh yes, well..." the baron cleared his throat. There was not much he could say. He could not every well argue that she was preying on his ignorance- because he had presented himself as an expert over his own lands, because he'd have to confess on the record his lack of knowledge, because he'd have to lower himself in front of this interloper, and most of all because he could not very well let it be known that he had disparaged the darling of the nation. After a prolonged pause he turned a light shade of pink, turning himself around to try to get his bearings relative to where the crop in question could possibly be planted.

Rhiane moved past him and approached a teenager who was standing with her sister, the former which might have been fourteen to sixteen years of age and the latter no more than eight. They represented two distinct turning points in her life. It was when she was a teenager that the plague swept through her village and reduced her mother from a pillar of strength to a fragile woman succumbing to illness. The little girl reminded her of the first time she had gone romping through acreage with a basket and instructions to harvest fruits and vegetables for dinner.

"Would you help me?" she asked the younger of the pair, though her eyes flitted up to the elder sibling for a sign of approval. "Could you take me to the pomegranates? Maybe you could hold my good hand? I'm afraid the other is hurt," she apologized. The girl hesitated, glanced up to the elder sister, and then nodded enthusiastically. The brunette held out the good hand in question and took her new little companion's with a motherly affection. The gathered group was enthralled with the princess elect. It was hard to tell if they even remembered the presence of their patrons with such an enchanting, thoughtful, and considerate celebrity wooing her way into their hearts. Lord Furello and Luce had no room to protest. Criticizing a child's company would have been political suicide.

"Miss Black, how are you feeling today?" one eager correspondent called out.

"With all due respect," Rhiane said without faltering, though her injured arm was more visibly shaking at the memories this conjured, "I would rather focus on the tour. I don't think it would be fair to the people that are out here in the cold to be with us if I spent time dwelling on such an unpleasant incident. Perhaps we could speak about this later at another time? I have [i]many[/i] questions for Lord Furello about the equipment he employs, recent trials for new products, the crop rotation timetable and its variables at this elevation, the seed to yield ratio..."

She continued on as they began their tour. It became immediately clear that, although she aimed every inquisitive query at the elder gentleman, there were less than half that he could answer- and the ones he did were ones that she almost threw at him out of pity. To his great humiliation she fielded responses from the farmers that walked with them. Rhiane walked with such confidence, with such obvious proficiency and expertise on the topic evident, and with so much adoration from her audience, to the casual observer she was a goddess of the earth leading her devout, and that the plain garb was but to show her unity with her domain. She was in her element. The sultry brunette walked lightly, smiled brightly, laughed and joked with strangers to their mutual delight, and basked in afternoon sun with an breathtaking glow. Luke had asserted it was her show, and it was, but even the journalists were woefully unprepared for how much a truly happy Rhiane could make them fall in love with her all over again.

This was, thus far, without reservation, the most resounding success of the engagement tour.